Foreplay (The Ivy Chronicles #1)(3)

He slammed the hood back in place.

“Thanks a lot.” I shoved my hands into my pockets. “Saved me from calling a tow truck.”

“So no one’s coming then?” That corner of his mouth lifted back up again and I knew I amused him.

“Yeah.” I shrugged. “I might have made that up.”

“It’s okay. You weren’t exactly in an ideal situation. I know I can look scary.”

My gaze scanned his face. Scary? I knew he was probably joking, but he did have that certain edge to him. A dangerous vibe with his tattoos and piercing. Even if he was hot. He was like the dark vampire in movies that girls obsessed over. The one who was torn between eating the girl and kissing her. I always preferred the nice mortal guy and never understood why the heroine didn’t go after him. I didn’t do dark, dangerous, and sexy. You don’t do anyone. I shoved the whisper back, batting it away. If the right guy—the one I wanted—noticed me, all that would change.

“I wouldn’t say scary . . . exactly.”

He chuckled softly. “Sure you would.”

Silence hovered between us for a moment. My gaze swept over him. The comfortable-looking T-shirt and well-worn jeans were casual. Guys wore them every day on campus, but he didn’t look casual. He didn’t look like any guy I ever saw around campus. He looked like trouble. The kind that girls lost their heads over. Suddenly my chest felt too tight.

“Well, thanks again.” Offering up a small wave I ducked back inside my car. He watched me turn the key. Thankfully smoke didn’t billow up from the hood.

Driving away, I refused to risk a glance back in my rearview mirror. If Emerson had been with me, I’m sure she wouldn’t have left without his phone number.

Eyes on the road again, I felt perversely glad she wasn’t there.





Chapter 2

I nudged the door open with my shoulder, my hands overflowing with a popcorn bag and bottled pink lemonade. I walked into the adjoining room and sank down onto Georgia’s swivel chair. As usual, Emerson’s was covered in clothes.

ABBA throbbed on the air—Emerson’s signature getting-ready-to-go-out music. Whenever I heard it blaring through our thin walls, I knew preparations had started.

Setting my bottle down on her desk amid her mess of notebooks and books, I shoveled a fistful of popcorn into my mouth and watched as she shimmied into a tight miniskirt. The crazy black-and-white zigzag print looked good on her tiny frame. I winced, envisioning myself wearing it. Not a pretty picture. I wasn’t a five-foot-tall, hundred-pound spinner.

“Where are you going tonight?”

“Mulvaney’s.”

“Not your usual playground.”

“Freemont’s has gotten too full of frat brats.”

“I thought that was your thing.”

“Last year maybe. I’m over them. This year I’m more into . . .” She angled her head, examining herself in the mirror that hung on the door. “ . . . men, I guess. No more boys for me.” She flashed me a grin. “Wanna come?”

I shook my head. “I have class tomorrow.”

“Yeah. At like nine thirty.” She shook her head with disgust. “Please. My class is at eight.”

“Which you will probably miss.”

She winked. “Prof never takes attendance. I’ll get the notes from someone else.”

Likely some hapless freshman who got tongue-tied when Emerson approached. He’d probably offer her a kidney if she asked.

Georgia entered the room, wrapped in a terry-cloth robe and holding her shower caddy. “Hey, Pepper. You coming out with us tonight?”

My hand froze in the bag of popcorn. “You’re going, too?” That would be unusual. Georgia spent most nights with her boyfriend.

She nodded. “Yeah, Harris is studying for a big test tomorrow, so I figured why not? Mulvaney’s is pretty cool. Beats Freemont’s.”

Emerson shot me an I-told-you-so look. “Sure you don’t want to join us?” she asked, sliding a turquoise top over her head. It was sexy. One-shouldered and hugged her like a second skin. Something I would never wear.

“I’ll leave the wild nights to you two.”

Emerson snorted. “I don’t know how wild we can get with Georgia here. She’s practically an old married lady.”

“Am not!” Georgia unwrapped the damp towel from her head and threw it at Emerson.

Emerson grinned and snagged some popcorn from my bag. She wolfed down a mouthful and then licked at her buttery fingers, nodding at me. “You’re the one who should be going.”

“You should go,” Georgia seconded. “You’re single. Live a little. Have fun. Flirt.”

“It’s all right.” I shook my head. “I’ll get my vicarious thrills through the two of you.”

“Oh, be honest. It’s because of Hunter,” Emerson said accusingly as she stood in front of her mirror and applied product into her short dark hair. She tugged and arranged the strands until they stuck out at different angles, creating a wild, choppy look that surrounded her round face. She looked like some kind of cool pixie.

I shrugged. It was no secret that my heart belonged to Hunter Montgomery. I’d been in love with him since I was twelve.

A familiar ring tone trilled from my room. I thrust my popcorn bag at Emerson and rushed through the adjoining door.